When I opened the door leading into the atrium, the blast of cold air felt good upon my skin. It was early, too early actually, and the building was still quiet, drifting out of the sleepy emptiness of night. The other office on the ground floor was dark, as was the small lobby belonging to the interior design firm that catered to the ultra elite and idiotically rich of the city's wealthier denizens.
The decor for the atrium looked like it was stuck in the 1980’s, though I admit that I really liked it. The tile was dark, a rich brown color that looked like glazed pottery. Cut through the center, from one corner to the other, was a faux riverbed, complete with tropical plants, a real, flowing creek with actual water, some goldfish, and a small, wooden bridge that was more ornamental than functional. After all, you could have hopped over the creek itself.
I moved easily through the atrium, toward the interior design firm tucked away into the back right hand corner. My purse was slung over my right shoulder, while a brown sack with rope handles dangled heavily from my left hand. The slapping sound of my flip flops striking the bottoms of my feet seemed to echo through the chamber, just barely louder than the babbling of the tiny brook.
I looked around, surprised that I was unobserved. I was ridiculously early, but for the first time in quite awhile, Jose, our day porter, didn’t happen to be loitering around to watch me come into work. I wondered if I had beaten him in, an uneasy feeling starting in my stomach. I reached the door of Kari’s offices, bent down to unlock it, and was then scared out of my wits when Jose appeared out of nowhere, grinning down at me, cooing at me in his sing song voice.
“Breaaaaannneeee! Look you!!” He sang, gesturing down at me with wild and unbelieving eyes. He gestured at my clothes again, a look of astonishment on his face and I let out a relieved chuckle. I knew what he was trying to imply. I was dressed. Or at least nothing sexual was hanging out. I finished unlocking the door and stood up, giving him a smile. I crooked a finger.
“Necesito tu ayuda,” I said softly, glancing around, giving him a little eyebrow wiggle that clearly meant “follow me and have something tasty.” No one else was in the atrium. I watched as Jose’s eyes widened with excitement and he bobbed his head eagerly. This wasn’t the first time I’d been alone with the man so there weren’t any questions asked, in English or Spanish. I opened the door and gestured for him to go in and he did. He stepped to the side the moment he got into the lobby, and I grabbed his hand and pulled him in deeper. I didn’t bother locking the door back up. No one would come in until Kari arrived an hour later, and that left me with plenty of time to abuse Jose’s good nature.
I didn’t turn on the lights and instead pulled Jose down the hall and to the right. It wasn’t until we got to the conference room that I snapped a switch and let the white luminescence bathe me. Jose stopped and waited, a hungry look on his face and I didn’t want to disappoint him. I slipped off my shoes as I set the paper sack down on the conference table. Then I turned toward him, our eyes meeting, and I unbuttoned the white blouse.
When you aren’t wearing a bra, breasts have a tendency to flop out when released from the tight cotton weft of a shirt. I’m a C cup, which translates into two “grapefruit” sized melons on my chest. My nipples, both of them pierced with gold hoops, danced in front of Jose’s face, and the little padlock which dangled from my right tit wiggled enticingly as each breath just made me look all that much more desireable. I shrugged out of the shirt and tossed it to the side where it hung on one of Kari’s leather conference room chairs.
Jose didn’t say a word as my thumbs went down to the shorts. I unbuttoned them quickly, pushing them down at the same time, and the fact that I wasn’t wearing panties either only turned the heat up. Naked, I kicked off the clothing. Jose stared, still unmoving, waiting for me. So I reached into the bag, pulled out the anal beads and bottle of baby oil. And since I was already facing the right way, toward the table, I laid my top half down on the table and stuck my ass out.
Some things do not need words. Much less translation.
Jose was a practical man and he needed no urging or explanation. He grabbed the anal beads and bottle of oil. The beads themselves were black and there were eight of them, starting with one the size of a marble and getting bigger until the very last one would feel like a walnut had been shoved in my butt. Worse, and I’m not sure if Jose knew this, but they vibrated. There was a black cord leading to a controller with an overpowered battery.
I heard the snap of the bottle cap and I closed my eyes as cool, wet drops began falling on my tailbone, right above the crack of my ass. Jose didn’t go easy on the oil either. I reached back for him, grabbing my butt cheeks and pulling them open even as I spread my legs. I’m sure the gaping wetness of my pussy, which was uncharacteristically empty at that particular moment, was undoubtedly inviting, but Jose is not a man who takes. He’s a man who gives. And right at that moment, he knew that what I needed was my ass filled.
And preferably well lubricated.
He used his finger, which drove me absolutely nuts, because he basically gave me the hand massage equivalent of a rimjob, gently caressing my anus with his finger. I groaned, quivering like mad. Jose slipped a digit into my ass, just up to the first knuckle and I gasped, eyes widening. It wasn’t supposed to feel good. But it did. I shook my head, trying to grasp the reality I found myself in. Getting turned on by anal play isn’t really my thing.
Jose fucked my ass with his fingers and I struggled not to clamp down or tighten up. He did this for almost thirty seconds, then twisted his hand and pushed his thumb into my pussy. He sat down in a chair behind me and, ignoring the beads, began using his other hand to rub my clit. I trembled violently, waves of sweet, exquisite bliss shooting up from between my legs and I couldn’t help it. The pressure became too great and I found myself crying out in rapture, the heat and pleasure of his gentle, but thorough ministrations took me to the cliff and tossed me over the edge.
He didn’t pull his fingers out of me until I sighed in relief, sagging onto the table, my breasts mashed outward as the euphoria of climax left me blissfully sublime. Jose let out a chuckle as I hummed. Then he pulled his fingers out of me, wiped them on a towel he pulled from his back pocket, and grabbed the anal beads.
I’d let out a disappointed groan when he’d pulled his hand out of me, but that sound disappeared when I felt the first silicon covered bead get pressed against the brown button of my bottom. It went in easily, though Jose applied a little more oil and pressed the second sphere up against my sphincter. The third bead got pushed in next, then the fourth. I moaned as my bottom took more and more of the round balls until finally the last bead was a constant pressure against my bottom. I felt too full, my bottom achingly stuffed, but Jose managed to get the last, walnut size object into my ass. I looked back at him and nodded, eyes bright.
“Ahora, por favor. Úsame.” I reached over to the bag and tipped it over. A number of things spilled out - the alligator clamps (three of them), my vibroballs, and a box of condoms. I grabbed the prophylactics and handed one to Jose who took it with a grin. He knew what I was doing; granting permission. He applied it himself right after I heard the zipper of his pants. Then, with exquisite grace and accuracy, he pressed himself against my bottom and I felt his long, thick cock slide deep into my pussy.
Yessssssssss.
There is something right about getting fucked by a man. Don’t get me wrong - I’m bi-sexual and I can have a sweet, steamy time with any girl. But men come naturally with the right equipment. There’s no buckles or straps. They feel amazing inside me, and while I can understand the psychological reasons some women become homosexual, being able to have the best of both worlds means a lot to me. I wasn’t planning on marrying Jose. In fact, I think he is married. But clearly our relationship was a physical one only. I was using him. In fact, I wasn’t done using him.
Jose worked himself into a tizzy in relatively short order, though I admit if he’d managed to hold off for another minute or two, I’d have been joining him on the “I just had a fucking oragasm” porch. Instead, with me quivering in renewed excitement, he stiffened, hardened, trembled, and popped, squirting a cumload of cream into the tip of the condom. He sighed in relief, pulling out slowly, his cock softening.
I groaned too, straightening up as my pussy complained about the sudden emptiness. I turned to face him, being careful of the anal beads and the wire and controller. I faced him with a grin. Then I grabbed the bottle of oil and held it out, even as I gestured with my other hand at my chest.
“¿Por favor? ¿En todos lados?” I asked him meekly. “Lots of it.”
His eyes brightened and he nodded. He stood up and tucked away his sausage, straightening his pants easily. Then he took the bottle and poured a small amount of baby oil on my sternum, right between my breasts.
“Mas’ I said as he brought a hand up, catching the trickling oil and spreading it over my breast.
His eyes widened and I nodded. “More please,” I said, this time in English. Jose tipped more and caught it again in his free hand, letting go of my bosom. He set the bottle down, but I grabbed it. Our eyes met and I nodded smiling. I poured more oil right onto my left tit and he had no choice but to bring his hand up, catching the over flow, and begin spreading it around.
In seconds my breasts glistened, as did Jose’s hands, and I poured a bit more baby oil onto my chest, high up by the hollow of my throat. Jose took the hint and left my boobs, oiling my chest, a look of concern on his face as I kept putting on more oil.
“Lower please?” I asked him, then said, “Bajo?”
Jose glanced up at me sharply, but then nodded, dropping to one knee, even as I poured another trickle into my cleavage. This time it slid downward, through my slick breasts, over my tummy and into my belly button. Jose caught it, spreading it around, rubbing it into my skin until I turned shiny. And I poured more. He had no choice but to move lower and I tilted my hips, pushing my sweet pussy out for his hand.
“Me piernas, tambien, por favor,” I whispered. Jose nodded and I poured oil onto my right thigh. His hands touched me everywhere and my skin glistened as if I’d just been glazed. It felt so good and he moved down to my foot.
“Todo,” I said, arching my foot. I felt his fingers on my sole, then slipping across the top and down to my toes.
“Le otro pierna?” I asked. He switched as I poured the oil and rubbed my other leg.
Then it was time for the other side of me. As he looked up I turned around, sticking my ass right into his face. I put a hand on the table to brace myself and literally upended the bottle onto my back. Jose quickly rose.
“Wait! Wait! Wait!” He said, his “t’s” dropping. “Un momento!” He grabbed the bottle from me and set it down, his hands slipping and then going to my skin. He spread the film across my shoulders and down my arms, then rubbed my spine. Eventually he got to my bottom and he poured more oil into his hand.
“Mas, por favor,” I said. “I have to glisten.”
“Glisten?” He asked.
I thought hard, straining my Spanish. “Resplandescer?” I asked.
He gave me a confused look. “Brillante?”
Jose shook his head. Then his eyes brightened. “Con brillo?”
“Shiny,” I repeated, pointing at my arm where the oil was thick. He nodded, grabbed the bottle again, and put more oil on me. I could feel it dripping down my back and along my legs.
The rest of this story is no longer available on Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog, but is available for purchase, contained in Breanne Erickson's book "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Volume 17." Get it now at Amazon.com!
the word about this amazing young lady!
I know. Extensive, fancy title for a girl who basically walks around in public, essentially offering her ass to any and all comers, for pokies and spankings, all for free. But I worked damn hard to get that title and I’m sticking to it. But that’s not what this is about. Nope. It’s supposed to be a one page essay. A punishment essay. Now I know what you’re thinking. What could a nympho humiliation pain slut possibly have as a topic for her essay? 
